


You Can't Cut the Red Thread, Darling

by IndigoFudge



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Eddie Kaspbrak - Freeform, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Physical Therapy, Richie Tozier - Freeform, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Soft Richie Tozier, This is my first work on here so bear with me, Wheelchairs, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23081347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoFudge/pseuds/IndigoFudge
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak died two days ago.The universe has different ideas.-----Adrenaline is a magical thing. Apparently, it can keep a person running on empty for a while, even when they should logically be dead. Even when they have been impaled by a fucking demon clown and their blood has spilled out onto the rocky ground. And it keeps Eddie going long enough for him to climb out of Neibolt and collapse by the side of the road.It just so happens that Richie is driving on the same stretch of road on his way to the townhouse.-----The red thread of fate cannot be broken so easily.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	1. The Pull

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first real fanfiction... like, ever. So please be nice and leave constructive criticism! I'd love to improve!

It takes approximately 38 hours for Eddie Kaspbrak to awaken from unconsciousness.

During that time, he dreams. _Remembers_ is more like it. Remembers "Hey, we got Pennywise, man," and "He's alright, he's just hurt. We gotta get him out of here, he's hurt," cutting through the heavy fog that enveloped his brain 38 hours ago. 

_"We can still help him! Guys, we can still help him!"_

Eddie remembers being pulled into a tight hug by someone, by _Richie_ , and he remembers arms being torn away as the ground dipped and quaked. Debris rained down around him, a chunk of stone hitting him on the head, Richie's screams getting further and further away until all Eddie could hear was the roar of Neibolt collapsing.

It's pain that wakes him up - pain from the spot on his skull where the stone had hit him. Eddie's eyes flutter open and at first everything is blurry, and a few minutes pass before the pounding in his brain subsides enough for him to remember where he is.

"Richie," he says, or at least tries to. The words crack as they leave his mouth. He tastes blood, and swallows it back. Then he tries again: "Richie."

There's no answer, and Eddie feels devastatingly alone.

_He left you._

"No." Eddie blinks several times until his vision starts to clear. "He didn't want to."

_But he did. He left you alone. You're dying, Eddie. You're going to die in a dirty sewer, rot and bloat and get partially eaten by all of the nasty creatures that live down here. The Losers have already forgotten about you._

"Shut up," says Eddie. Talking is getting easier. So is thinking. Breathing, on the other hand, is increasingly difficult. He sorts through the mounds of thoughts in his head until the answer comes to him. 

As if on cue, pain radiates throughout his chest. Eddie gasps in a wet breath, on the edge of a coughing fit, and lifts a hand to press it on his sternum.

His left fist is clenched, still gripping the bloody fabric of Richie's jacket. 

Eddie chokes out a sob, tears running down his cheeks and making streaks in the blood and grime. "Why?" he asks no one in particular. "I'm fucking dead. I'm fucking dead, right?"

"No, Eddie. You're not dead, but you will be if you don't stand up and get moving."

Eddie stiffens. This voice is different than the one before. This voice is warm and familiar. Slowly, he lifts his head, and sees a pair of shoes a few feet away from him. No, not just shoes. There are feet, and legs, and a whole body. The face looks-

"You're not real!" Eddie is shaking. He holds his right arm out in front of him as if it offers any protection. "I'm just hallucinating you. That's what blood loss does."

"Stand up. I'm going to get you out of here."

"They killed It," whispers Eddie. He squeezes his eyes shut. "Didn't they? Or maybe It killed them and this is all part of one big trick. Maybe I'm in the deadlights." He opens his eyes again, but the man is still standing there, a bit clearer this time.

"I'm not part of a trick," the man says. His eyes are misty. "Look at me. Come on, Eddie. You know it's me."

Eddie slowly shakes his head. "But you're dead," he says, and he's not talking about Pennywise this time.

Spreading his arms wide, Stanley Uris gives a small smile. "You guys just killed a supernatural spider-clown, and you find ghosts hard to believe?"

Eddie presses the heels of his hands to his face and waits for ten seconds. When he looks up again, Stan is still there. "Stan?" Eddie's voice is shaky, disbelieving.

"Yeah." Stan's smile grows wider. "Yeah, it's me. Now please get up, Eds. You need to get out of here before you lose any more blood."

"Don't call me Eds," mumbles Eddie, trying to remember how to stand up. His legs feel like dead weight. Slowly, he leans forward, placing his hands on the ground. He doesn't let go of Richie's jacket. Every movement is agony. It makes him think of Ariel, The Little Mermaid, but not in the movie - in the original fairy tale. When she got her legs, walking felt like she was stepping on knives. 

Why is he thinking of Ariel? The situation seems a bit precarious to be compared to Disney princesses. Then he remembers:

* * *

_It was the summer after they fought It. The_ Aladdin _wa_ _s showing_ The Little Mermaid _for its one year anniversary._

 _"Hey, Eds," Richie said one day, drinking the last of his chocolate milkshake. "Wanna go see_ The Little Mermaid _today_ _? I like the slushies at the_ Aladdin _better than the milkshakes here, anyway."_

_"You literally just finished your entire milkshake. Do you need even more sugar?" Eddie crossed his arms, his face taking on its trademarked frown. "And don't call me Eds."_

_Richie grinned. "Is that a yes?"_

_"Sure."_

_They'd gone and watched the movie, and every time Sebastian worried about something, Richie would elbow Eddie and say "Look, it's you!"_

_"Don't talk during the movie, dipshit," Eddie whispered when he'd had enough. He was trying to sound exasperated, but he secretly thought Richie was hilarious._

_"'Don't talk during zee movie, deepsheet,'" Richie said in a bad French accent. "Lighten up a bit, Eds!"_

_And then, holy shit - Richie put his arm around Eddie's shoulders. Eddie tried not to tense up. He was breathing carefully, in and out, and blushing beet red; fortunately the_ Aladdin _was dark. And oh no, he wanted to_ kiss _Richie. He wanted to kiss a boy! His chest was tightening and fuck, he was going to have an asthma attack. Eddie managed a weak laugh. "Yeah," he said._

 _When Ariel and Eric were in the boat, and_ Kiss the Girl _was playing, Eddie started feeling sick. Half of him wanted to make out with Richie then and there, but the other half wanted to run far away and never come back. This sick feeling was intensified when Richie - holy mother of God_ \- _rested his head against Eddie's._

_The movie ended simultaneously too quickly and not quickly enough, but mostly the former. As the credits rolled, Eddie and Richie made eye contact._

_"Didja like it?" Richie sounded breathless. His eyes were wide._

_"Uh-huh," whispered Eddie._

_It took all of five seconds for them both to lean in and kiss each other swiftly on the lips. Then they broke away._

_"Um, it's kind of hot in here," Richie said. He tugged at the collar of his t-shirt to emphasize his point. "Want to meet up with everyone else at the Barrens?"_

_Eddie, grateful for a subject change, had nodded rapidly._

_Neither of them ever spoke of that moment again._

* * *

Ah yes, the kiss. Eddie had completely forgotten. He smiles a bit at the memory. It hadn't been hot in the theater at all - in fact, the air conditioning had been chilly - but they were thirteen, and therefore Richie's excuse seemed good enough.

Standing up takes what seems like hours. Bit by bit, Eddie moves his legs, shifting his weight and balance until he is upright. He rests unsteadily against the wall. His head is spinning, and the inside of his mouth is coated in dried blood. Everything is awful. A tiny part of him wishes he could still be dead. "What next?" he asks Stan.

"Now you walk." Stan shrugs as if it is the most natural thing in the world. "Walk until you reach the end, and then climb."

Eddie barks out a sharp laugh, ignoring the flaring pain in his chest. "Yeah, I'm definitely in shape to be climbing. I have a fucking- a fucking _hole_ in my chest, and I've been exposed to god-knows-how-much bacteria, and I can barely move my legs. There's no way I'll be able to climb anything." He spits blood on the ground and doesn't know if it's from his cheek or his lungs; probably from both.

As adrenaline pumps through his bloodstream, Eddie manages to take a step, and then another. He can't feel his feet, which is most definitely not a good sign, and distantly wonders if they will have to be amputated. 

Graywater squishes underneath his shoes. "I'm going to get so many infections, I mean- I probably have at least three right now. This is fucking disgusting," Eddie says, just to _hear_ something, because even with Stan here he feels like he's alone. 

All Stan says in response is "Keep walking. Richie needs you."

And Eddie doesn't know why that's what gets him, but it is. "Richie," he whispers. "Yeah, I gotta get out of here. For Richie." He focuses his eyes on the shadowy expanse in front of him. One more step. Two. Three. Four, and it's getting easier. His chest doesn't hurt as much, and that is really bad, but fuck it. He has to keep moving.

By the time the ground begins to slope upward, Eddie is wheezing. One hand is held to his chest, using Richie's jacket to apply pressure to the wound, and the other reaches out in front - feeling along the wall for anything to hold. His fingers don't find purchase on the slimy rocks, but at least it's something to lean on.

"You're almost there," says Stan, and Eddie's eyes are adjusting to the dark. There's a spot a little while ahead that doesn't seem so black, and as he gets closer he realizes it's a culvert.

"What do we do after I get out?" Eddie's head is beginning to hurt again, and so is his chest, throbbing with burning pain that makes him want to pass out. He starts to kneel down, but his legs give out and he falls, narrowly avoiding smacking his skull on the metal opening. 

"You keep going." Stan's voice is a whisper.

Eddie pauses, halfway into the culvert. "You're not coming?"

There's no answer.

Panic rises in Eddie's throat. "Stan? This isn't fucking funny."

But Stan isn't there anymore, and Eddie realizes that he never was. It makes his heart feel heavy, even though some part of him knew - in the beginning, especially, he said it was just a hallucination. He knew it was too good to be true. Now he has lost something that was never there in the first place, and he feels empty.

"Shit." Eddie crawls fully inside the culvert. It's too small for him stand, but just big enough so that he can crawl without having to hunch down. A layer of graywater covers the bottom, immediately soaking the knees of his pants through. "I'm really doing this."

His voice echoes off the sides, and he begins to move forward. Unsure, hesitant. His hands and knees splash in the water. Sweat drips down his face.

But he can see light at the end. There is literal light at the end of the literal tunnel, and although it stings his eyes - he probably has a concussion, he needs to get to a goddamn hospital, for that among other things - he keeps crawling. He keeps crawling until he gets to the end, waiting for his eyes to stop hurting so he can get a glimpse of what lies outside.

It's grass, which isn't surprising. The grass slopes downhill, which means - Eddie hopes - that it must also go uphill, above the mouth of the culvert. As carefully as he can, without agitating his wounds anymore, he crawls out of the tunnel. 

Relief melts through him when he sees that the hill does in fact continue over the culvert, and there is even a guardrail at the top, and beyond that is the occasional blur of a car roaring past. This is quickly followed by the sinking realization that he will have to _climb_ the hill in order to reach salvation. He tilts his head to the side and coughs, a glob of blood dripping from his mouth and splattering onto the grass. Then he looks forward again and begins moving.

He climbs a few feet, and then stops, panting with exhaustion. "Please," he whispers. "Please, someone find me. I can't... I can't do this." And although he doesn't say it out loud, he thinks _I'm too scared._

Then, loud and clear, he hears Richie's voice inside his head: "You're braver than you think."

It makes him start crying again, and he wipes at his face with the back of his hand, trying not to worry about the millions of germs that are crawling on his skin from the graywater. "I'll do it," he says, his voice firmer this time. "I'm braver than I think."

So he climbs. Every minute that passes brings with it more pain, more gasps for air, more blood. Once Eddie has gotten to the top of the hill, he only has enough energy to climb over the guardrail before crumpling on the dirt at the side of the road, curling up in pain. And he lets go.


	2. The Drop

Richie Tozier almost doesn't see the person on the side of the road.

Then he sees them, but he almost doesn't pull over.

Then he pulls over and sits in his car, thinking.

The pizza is getting cold, sitting in the passenger seat of the car, and besides - he's really hungry. He's _starving_ , and he wants to hurry the fuck up back to the townhouse so he can finally start eating.

But on the other hand... well. There really isn't any _other hand -_ at least, nothing he can explain in words. There's just a tug in his chest, making him feel like he needs to get out of the car and get a closer look.

"No way, what if I get murdered?" he says aloud. "They'll stab me like ten times, and it'll be gross. Blood is gross." And then he stops talking, a lump forming in his throat, as images of _blood on his glasses and on his face and on his hands and all over Eddie_ run through his mind. 

Richie drums his fingers on the steering wheel, blowing a breath out. He tilts his head back. And then he scrubs at his face with his hands. "Fine." The tug in his chest is getting more intense, and for a moment, Richie feels as if he might throw up. But he doesn't. He just gets out of the car and stands over the person on the ground.

The guy is wearing a jacket that might be blue, although it's covered in dirt and what looks like blood. The back of the jacket is torn, revealing a large bloody wound. Richie gags. The wound - combined with the blue jacket - catapults him right back into his memories of the sewer ~~and of Eddie.~~ "Hello? You alright?" He gently nudges the person with his foot, which elicits a soft groan from them. "Do you need help?"

The person seems to perk up a bit at Richie's voice. He takes a shuddered breath and says "Hospital. Please."

Something is nagging at Richie, but he shakes it off. "Alright, man, I'm going to call the police, okay? Let's sit you up." Gently, he puts one arm around the back of the guy's shoulders and lifts him so he's leaning against the guardrail.

All it takes is one glance at the guy's face for Richie to suddenly feel very faint.

His eyes are closed, and his skin is grimy, but there's no denying it - especially with the gash on his left cheek.

Richie's heart skips a beat.

"What the fuck," he says eloquently, stumbling backwards. His eyes burn with tears. "What the fuck. We killed you, you fucking clown! You motherfucking _clown!_ You've got a lot of guts coming back and teasing me like this!"

The ~~man~~ clown coughs, blood dribbling from his mouth, and opens his eyes. He gasps heavily, recognition quickly flashing over his face. A tear rolls down his cheek. "Rich," he chokes, reaching out a shaking hand. "Richie. 'M not... 'm not a..."

Richie is crying now, too, and he can't stop it. That voice is unmistakable. There's no way that piece of shit clown could recreate a person so perfectly, which means the only explanation is-

"Eds!" He drops down, scraping his knees on the ground, and puts his hands on Eddie's shoulders. _Holy fucking shit._ _Real. This is real._ Eddie _is real._ Richie wraps his arms around Eddie and gathers him into a fierce hug. If he lets go, Eddie might disappear. He holds him tightly, even tighter than he did down in Neibolt. His shoulders shake with sobs. "Fuck. Fuck." Richie rubs circles on Eddie's back, avoiding the wound. He's trying to come up with the right thing to say, and settles on: "You- you fucking died, man." 

"Richie... it hurts." Eddie's back arches slightly as he coughs up more blood on the side of the road. "I can't breathe."

" _Fuck_ , sorry!" Richie lets go, rubbing his hands up and down Eddie's arms. His eyes search Eddie's. "Eds, it's really- I can't believe it's- holy shit. Holy _shit._ I watched you die!"

Eddie licks his lips. "Yeah. But I... just spent hours walking through the fucking sewers. 'M alive now. Because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Mhm." Eddie tries to smile. His mouth is numb. "'You're braver than you think.' Remember?" Then he inhales sharply, blood rattling in his throat, and coughs.

"Oh, yeah, I need to get you to a hospital." Richie sniffles. "Can you stand up?"

Eddie shakes his head, his face pinched in pain. His heart rate quickens as he realizes he can't even feel his legs anymore. _That might just be because of the blood loss_ , he tries telling himself, but there is a heavy thought in his head that maybe hallucination-Stan's - if he even was a hallucination, because the possibility that he was some sort of ghost is seeming ore and more likely - last miracle was to grant Eddie the ability to walk. Pennywise's claw likely hit him right in the spinal cord, after all, and people don't just climb to their feet easily after injuries like that.

"That's fine." Richie gets to his feet, leans down, and easily picks Eddie up, cradling him to his chest in a bridal carry.

 _Oh._ Eddie's vision whites out for a hot second. He can hear Richie's heart thudding. _I like this a lot,_ he thinks. The warmth and the closeness plant seeds of happiness inside Eddie's heart. He sighs.

"Jesus," says Richie. "I'll get you to my car. You're gonna be fine, right?"

"I sure hope so," gasps Eddie, shivering. Even though he's sharing Richie's body heat, the combination of blood loss and a cold breeze is lowering Eddie's body temperature dramatically, and quite frankly it is very uncomfortable. He's nauseous as well. _My body is breaking down, bit by bit. I am not going to make it to the hospital._ But instead he says: "Would hate to- have come- all this way- just to die."

Richie opens the door to the passenger side of his car with one hand and swipes the pizza boxes to the floor. The only thing that matters now is Eddie. "You're not gonna die, Eds," Richie says, ever-so-carefully buckling Eddie in the passenger seat. He closes the door and then climbs into the driver's seat, starting the car and pulling back onto the road. A quick glance in the rearview mirror shows that his eyes are swollen and puffy, his cheeks stained with tears, but at this point he doesn't care. 

"Rich?" Eddie slumps across the middle and rests his head on Richie's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here. I didn't... I couldn't keep going."

"You got this far, didn't you?" Richie is driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand around Eddie's shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his right arm.

Eddie tries and fails to clear his throat of blood. "Because of you. Thanks-"

"Fuck, Eds." Richie sobs again, pressing down harder on the gas pedal. "You don't- you don't have to thank me."

"-for trying to save me."

"What else was I supposed to do? Leave you there without even trying?" Richie carefully uses his right hand to try to help Eddie sit up fully. "And hey, sit up. Don't lean on me. If we get in a crash, you're gonna die, and your brains will go everywhere. It'll be fucking disgusting, dude."

Instead, Eddie puts his hand out, his fingers finding Richie's and squeezing. His grip is weak - _because he's lost so much blood, so much, he should be dead_ \- but purposeful. "You're fucking disgusting," he slurs. Shapes swim in his vision. He focuses all his energy on breathing, taking in one breath after another. But shit, it's almost not worth it. Inhaling is painful, and it agitates his broken ribs, and plus there's an unhealthy whistling noise that comes from his chest. Of course, being obsessed with medical knowledge, Eddie knows that if his brain is deprived of oxygen for too long then it will be permanently damaged, but a small part of him argues that maybe it would be better if he just didn't breathe. 

It would certainly hurt less.

"I'm not the one who just crawled out of a sewer, Eds. You look like shit." Richie tries to keep his tone lighthearted, but more tears are still creeping into his voice. 

"Don' call me Eds." That's the last thing Eddie says before he passes out.

"Hey, stay awake," says Richie, going over the speed limit as he sees a bright green sign for the hospital. "We're almost there."

Eddie doesn't answer. His breath is wheezing, sounding worse and worse. And that's no surprise, really, seeing as how he was speared through the chest by the claw of a demon clown, meaning that one of his lungs is probably punctured _and maybe collapsed, that's a thing that can happen, lungs can collapse. If his lung is collapsed then he's slowly choking on his own blood and he might die before I can even get him to the hospital and then this will have all been for nothing._

"Don't fucking die on me, Eds," Richie warns, gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white. "I swear to shit. If you die, I'm going to kill you." _Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, God._ Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Eddie getting impaled. 

As soon as he pulls into the hospital, Richie skids to a stop and carries Eddie inside. 

"My friend, he- the old Neibolt house collapsed on him and he's hurt," Richie says, tears freely flowing again as the doctors gently take Eddie from his arms. "Please, his name is Edward Kaspbrak, he has- he has really bad anxiety and you have to help him."

The man at the front desk is clipping a form to a clipboard and handing it to Richie. "Please fill this out, sir," he says. 

Eddie lets out a groan, shifting on the stretcher. A nurse stretches an oxygen mask around his face and begins wheeling him away.

Brokenly, Richie takes the clipboard and pen from the receptionist. He thinks he mumbles "Thanks," but he's not sure, because his lips are numb and his ears are ringing. After he fills out the form, he slumps back in the waiting room chair and wipes his face with tissues, using up about half of the box before his tears are dry.

-

_Richie is lying against the rocky ground and everything is fuzzy. There's the sound of footsteps running up to him. "Rich! Ah, Rich!" Someone puts a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Rich! Wake up! Hey!"_

_Richie opens his eyes, blinking several times. Eddie kneels over him, looking excited and_ proud. 

_"Yeah, yeah! There he is, buddy! Hey, Richie, listen - I think I got him, man!" Eddie throws a quick glance over his shoulder, and then looks back at Richie. Even in the shadows of the cave, Richie can see Eddie's eyes sparkle. "I think I killed It! I did! I think I killed him for re-"_

_There's a sharp slicing sound, and Eddie jolts. Warm blood - Eddie's blood - sprays over Richie's face and glasses. One of Pennywise's claws is protruding from Eddie's chest._

_From far away, Bev screams._

_Richie can hardly breathe."Eddie!" He looks up, meeting Eddie's eyes._

_Eddie brings trembling hands to the claw in his chest. "Richie..." he says, his voice sounding like a child, hurt and terrified. He squeezes his eyes shut as a wave of blood pours from his mouth. "Richie-"_

_And then he's flying backwards, dangling in the air as Pennywise brings his arm back._

_"Eddie," Richie says again, breathlessly._

_One of the Losers yells, but Richie doesn't know who. His eyes are fixed on Eddie. Pennywise laughs a mocking laugh and hurls Eddie into a darker part of the cave._

_Richie jumps up and starts running, joining the other Losers as they all run down the rocky slope._

_Eddie is face-down on the ground, blood spreading out from underneath him. A chorus of "Eddie! Eddie! Eds! Careful!" comes from the rest of the Losers as Mike, very gently, rolls Eddie onto his back, leaning him against the wall of the cave. Eddie moans, a choking noise coming from his throat as he moves his gaze down to his chest and the sucking wound in his sternum. Every breath sounds painful._

_"Come out and play, Looosers!" Pennywise taunts from the mouth at the top of the slope._

_Richie is frozen in fear, but he pulls himself out of it, shrugging his jacket off and pressing it to Eddie's chest. "He's hurt, he's hurt really bad, we gotta- we gotta get him out of here," he says._

_"How are we supposed to do that, Richie?" Bev looks at him with tears in her eyes._

_Richie just focuses on Eddie, Eddie who just a moment ago was leaning over him victorious. Eddie takes a breath. "I almost killed him," he says, and at first Richie thinks he's talking about Pennywise, but then Eddie says "...the leper. My hands were at its throat. I could feel him... could feel him choking."_

_Eddie's holding his hand out in front of him, as if the leper is right there._

_"I made him small," he says. "He seemed so weak. He seemed... he seemed so weak." Eddie's eyes drift closed, and Richie's heart hammers with fear._

_Suddenly, Mike looks up. "The Shokopiwah. All living things must abide by the laws of the shape they inhabit!"_

_Understanding seems to be dawning on Bev as Ben sticks his head out of a nearby tunnel. "Guys! There's a passageway. Through here."_

_"The tunnel!" exclaims Bev. "Pennywise has to make himself small to get through the entrance of the cavern, right? Okay, so, if we can get back there, we can force him down to size." There's a fire in her eyes. "We make him small... small enough so we can kill him."_

_At that, some of the tension in Eddie's expression seems to melt away._

_"I can smell the stink of your fear!" roars Pennywise._

_The Losers hurry through the passageway. Eddie leans heavily on Richie. Pennywise is still distracted, digging at the opening._

_"I need a little rest," Eddie gets out, as Bill and Richie gently lower him down. "Thanks." Then he cries out, the noise quickly turning into a cough._

_"Eddie," Richie says, trying not to cry. He kneels next to Eddie, helping him apply pressure to the wound. Richie feels his chest heave with every wet breath, and it makes him feel ill. He wants to hug Eddie, gather him close, because maybe if he holds him tight enough, Eddie won't die._

_Eddie lets out a weak laugh. "Hey, Richie. I gotta tell you something."_

_"What? What's up, buddy?" Richie leans closer, just a little bit, but close enough so he can feel Eddie's body heat. He stares into Eddie's intoxicating brown eyes, trying to remember what they look like in case he never gets the chance to see them again._

_Eddie stares at Richie, setting his jaw with resolve. "I fucked your mother."_

_And Richie feels dizzy. His smile drops away. How many times has he made that same joke? How many times - when they were kids, and now that they're adults - has he cracked that joke to Eddie, never getting a laugh? Richie cannot bring himself to laugh now, not even when Eddie does._

_Ben, Bev, Mike, and Bill turn, waving Richie over. "Come on, l-let's kill this b-bitch," Bill says._

_Richie stands to go, but Eddie weakly grabs his sleeve. "Wait," he whispers. "Please stay... just for a moment."_

_At Eddie's touch, electricity runs through Richie. Without thinking, he reaches and holds Eddie's hand, which earns him a smile. Richie smooths a strand of hair back from Eddie's forehead. "Yeah?"_

_"I just wanted t'say thanks. You've always been... really good t'me. Like when I'm scared."_

_"Are you scared now?" Richie asks. Eddie's face is pale, and dark blood has dried on his chin and around his mouth, but Richie can't look away from his soft brown eyes._

_Eddie huffs out a short exhale, and then nods._

_"It's alright." Richie tries to smile. "I'm here. I'm staying right here." And again, he wants to hug Eddie, wrap his arms around him, tell him that everything will be okay. They can lie here, together, and Eddie won't be scared anymore._

_Eddie shakes his head. "No... I've said all I want t'say. Y'gotta go help them. Get Pennywise." He winces with pain._

_"No. I'm staying here. You need me."_

_With the last of his strength, Eddie lies a hand on Richie's shoulder. "I don' need you. They do," he slurs. "I'll be waiting."_

_And so Richie goes, but the whole time he is yelling insults at Pennywise, worry festers in his stomach._ You should have hugged him _, he thinks._ What if he dies and you never got to hug him, or tell him how you felt, or anything?

_After the Losers crush It's heart, Richie turns around, closes his eyes, and says "Eddie."_

_He sprints over to Eddie's slumped form and crouches down next to him. As anxious as he is, he manages a smile. "Hey, man. We got Pennywise, man."_

_Eddie's eyes are open, but he doesn't respond._

_Immediately, Richie's blood runs cold, and he feels sick. He brings his hand to Eddie's cheek, thumbing the bandage. Richie can feel the Losers staring at him. "Eddie?" His mouth is dry._

_"He's gone," whispers Bill, as the cavern starts to shake._

_"He's alright. No, he's just hurt. We gotta get him out of here, he's just hurt." Richie's eyes sting with tears. "Ben... no, he's okay. We gotta get him out of here- Bev-" But he knows he's just grasping at straws._

_Bev says "Richie..."_

_Richie takes a breath, steeling himself. "What?"_

_"Honey- honey, he's dead," she says. Richie turns away, shoulders shaking as he cries. Bev continues. "We have to go, come on. Come on, Richie."_

_But Richie can't move. He can't think of anything except for_ Eddie _and_ Eddie can't be dead _but he is, he is dead, he's dead in a filthy cave surrounded by a puddle of blood. He died alone, without even Richie there to comfort him. In a last-ditch desperate attempt, Richie pulls Eddie into one final hug, holding him tightly to his chest. Eddie,_ his _Eddie. Tears stream down Richie's face as he cups the back of Eddie's head in one of his hands._

_"Let him go, man, we gotta go."_

_Tears streaming down his cheeks, Richie cries out "We can still help him, guys, we can still help him!" He yells the words, screams them, but the Losers pull him away from Eddie's body. "We can still help him!"_

_-_

Richie is crying again. He tries to wipe his tears away once more - he uses up the rest of the Kleenex, even - but it doesn't work. A bolt of sickness passes through him at the memory of how it felt to think that Eddie was gone and not coming back.

He takes his new phone from his pocket and dials Bev.

She picks up on the second ring. "Hey, Richie," she says. "What's-"

"You have to come here." Richie's talking so fast that he almost trips over the words. "To, um, to the hospital. Like, immediately."

"What happened?" Then, muffled, to someone else - to Ben, probably - "Richie's at the hospital."

Richie tries to swallow back a sob, but it escapes him anyway. He runs shaking fingers through his hair. "It's... Eddie..." he manages, and then the words break off into tears. "They... I... fuck. He was on the side of the road..."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Seeing him again like that... it must have been really hard-"

"No, you don't understand." Richie is breathing hard. _Is this what Eddie feels like when he's having a panic attack?_ "He's fucking alive, Bev."

 _"What?"_ There's a pause. Again, muffled, to Ben: "He says Eddie's _alive._ "

Richie is picking at loose threads on his shirt. "You guys made me leave him. You made me leave him down there."

"Richie, I-"

"No! Ben could have carried him, he could have- he can lift like 500 pounds!" Richie is trying to keep his voice hushed, but it's getting harder as anger rises in him.

"I'm sorry, Richie." _Ben._ "I thought he was dead. We all did."

"Even if he was dead, you guys made me leave him down there, in the graywater and shit," says Richie, squeezing his free hand into a fist. "He would have hated it, you know that."

There's a sniffle from the other end, as if one or both of them is crying. "You're right. We- we should have tried to take him."

Richie scoffs out a breath. "I- I need to call Mike. You guys call Bill and tell him to meet me at the hospital." He hangs up, and immediately selects Mike's number in his contacts.

Mike picks up quicker than Bev did. "Richie," he says, sounding concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, Mike, something's wrong." _Goddamn psychic._ "It's really- really, um, bad. Or good. I'm in the emergency room."

"Oh my God, are you alright?" 

"No, not at all, thank you for asking. Eddie is alive. Here." Richie focuses on the ticking of the clock and the announcements on the intercom, the smell of antiseptic and the blinding whiteness of everything in the room. "So, you need to come."

There's a short silence. "He's-"

"YOU NEED TO COME! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" Richie yells, earning a scathing glare from the receptionist. His voice is shrill, and it sounds really stupid, but he couldn't care less. He hangs up the phone, buries his face in his hands, and cries for the fourth time today.


	3. The Stitch

The good news: Eddie is alive.

The bad news: He had to undergo several surgeries.

The worst news: He is in a coma.

"Making a prognosis can be difficult when a patient is in a coma," says the doctor. He looks around at all of the Losers - Ben and Bev sitting together, tightly holding hands; Bill in a chair next to Mike; Richie standing by the door. "Things can change very easily."

 _In other words_ , Richie thinks, _they don't know whether or not Eddie is going to be okay. Fucking great._ "Can we see him?"

"Only shortly, and it would be best for only one of you to go in at a time."

Richie presses a hand to his forehead, stomach turning over with anxiety. The patterned border of the hand washing poster on the wall seems to blur together.

"It's alright, Rich," Bev says softly. "You can go in first." She gives him a knowing smile, and her expression is so kind and understanding that it's all Richie can do not to burst into tears again.

"Thanks." He clears his throat, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. "I don't... I don't know where his room is." 

"I'll lead the way," the doctor says. He steps out into the hall and motions for Richie to follow him.

Richie starts walking, dumbly following along, unable to do anything but play with the top two buttons of his shirt. Everything is too much - it's too loud and too bright and he feels sick. _Please don't let Eddie die_ , he thinks. Maybe to a god, or maybe just to the universe in general. _Please let him be okay._ Eddie may be alright now, but things can go wrong, and Eddie himself had probably known that better than anyone, being a damn risk analyst.

"It's right in here. Room 145."

Richie bows his head, stepping over the threshold after nodding thank you to the doctor.

There's a nurse in here, standing watch in case anything happens. One of the walls is painted a blue-gray. Eddie lies in bed, a tube down his throat, his eyes closed.

The chair by Eddie's bed is hard and plastic and hurts Richie's back as he sits there. "Eds," he starts, gazing at Eddie with tear-filled eyes, and it takes him a few minutes before he can continue. His heart pounds against his ribcage. "God, you're so brave. You saved my life. You literally- saved my fucking life, so you have to wake up soon. You're gonna want to rub it in my face. 'Oh, Rich, I almost died to save you, so you have to do whatever I tell you.' You'll get so much special treatment."

Eddie doesn't answer. It's not as if Richie was expecting him to, but still. He's so _fragile._ Delicate. There's a fresh bandage on his left cheek. He's wearing a paper-thin hospital gown, and below the neckline Richie can see that his entire chest is wrapped in a thick layer of more bandages. _Because he almost died, well, maybe he_ did _die and then came back to life somehow, or even worse what if he didn't die and you just left him down there anyway? You could have lost him. Two fucking days that he was gone, both of them like hell on Earth, and now by some miracle he's here in front of you._

"I love you, Eds." The words tumble out of Richie before he can stop them. He hadn't mean to say it - not like this. His face grows warm, and he shrinks back in the chair as if expecting Eddie to stand up and hit him.

Nothing happens, of course, except for the _whoosh_ ing of the ventilator that's sending air into Eddie's injured lungs.

Richie swipes at his tears with a crumpled tissue from his pocket. He sneaks a glance at the nurse, who gives him a supportive smile. "Um. I've... ever since we were kids, I've... been in love with you. Like, I flirted with you all the time, and your oblivious ass never noticed. I'd always want to be close to you, I couldn't keep my hands off of you, I wanted to kiss you too but I never did." Richie tries to smile, but can't bring himself to. "And then we left, and I forgot until I saw you in the restaurant that night. Eds, you're fucking hot, man. Seriously."

Eddie, with his stupid fluffy hair, and his brown eyes, and that jacket - that soft jacket that smelled like dryer sheets when Richie was hugging him down in Neibolt, even though Eddie had been covered in dirt and graywater _and blood at that point there was so much blood because he was dead_ \- and his dimples, and the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle whenever he smiled and now...

Well.

Now, he's not smiling. In fact, he's frowning, his brow creased, which strikes Richie as ridiculous because he's in a coma and yet he's still anxious about something. Now, there is a shadow of stubble on his cheeks. Now, his eyes are closed. Now, he is standing precariously on the line between life and death. Hell - Eddie can't even breathe on his own. He needs a machine to do that for him. And there are so many other machines doing god knows what for him, too.

"Can- can he hear me?" Richie asks. 

The nurse clicks her pen. "It's unlikely, but I often encourage visitors to talk to comatose patients anyway. It seems to alleviate anxiety."

Richie swallows and turns back to Eddie. "I know this is, like, really cheesy, but I almost lost you, and I couldn't... couldn't live with myself." He exhales. _I love you I love you I love you._ It's not that hard to say it out loud now, right? Eddie isn't even able to hear him. No consequences. "I love you, Spaghetti." Slowly, he reaches out and holds Eddie's hand, lightly stroking the back. Even though it's stupid, Richie waits, half-hoping that Eddie will open his eyes and say 'don't call me that.' But Eddie stays still. Silent. 

_So close to being dead, he was almost fucking dead, he_ did _fucking die but he's not now so you actually have a chance but he doesn't love you back and also he's married so he couldn't anyway._ Richie's thoughts are speeding through his head ten times faster than they normally are, which says something. _He's not even out of the water yet, because he still has to have a shit ton more surgeries, and he could die during those, or maybe get an infection or something. Jesus, he was always worried about this shit, about bacteria and graywater, but now he's the one in a hospital bed and I'm sitting here perfectly fine._

Richie suddenly notices how tightly he's squeezing Eddie's hand, and he eases his grip. "Sorry, dude," he says. And then he swallows a lump in his throat. "...About everything else, too. I didn't- didn't want to leave you." It's getting hard to speak, partially because of the nurse standing against the wall and watching. "I didn't leave my room at all the next day, if that's any consolation - I was only out driving because I had to pick up the pizza Mike ordered. I just didn't want to stay in the townhouse anymore. It was too stuffy, and I kept thinking of Bowers..." Richie lets out a breath that is halfway to being a laugh. "You're so fucking brave. I mean it, Eds."

And maybe - barely, Richie feels Eddie's fingers hold his hand back, just for a second.

But then it's gone. 

"So, um. Jesus. It's, like, really hard to see you like this, man. I mean, you look awful." There is a lump in Richie's throat. "But you're alive. Shit! You're actually alive! And that means we won. You know, I tried to leave, after I got my artifact. Then Ben told me to stay, but I drove to the synagogue, and kind of remembered some shit about Stan's bar mitzvah, and then I went to the library and _that's_ when-"

Richie remembers the nurse in the room, and forces himself to switch directions.

" _That's_ when we all met up there. You'd changed clothes into the blue jacket and goddamnit, you were so adorable, and I wanted to fucking hug you but I didn't. When you wake up, I _will_ hug you. I swear it. I'm not wasting my chance ever again." Richie brushes his thumb across Eddie's knuckles, and his smile fades. "It's not... easy to talk to you like this. I'm used to you interrupting me every two seconds to tell me some stupid medical fact, or not to call you Eds. Hey, I'm- I'm sorry I'd always call you Eds even when I knew you didn't like it." 

_I'm sorry for every single thing I ever did that made you upset._

_Actually, I'm sorry for every single thing I ever did that just didn't make you happy, in general._

_I should have made you smile more often. And laugh._

_What if Eddie never smiles again? What if his condition gets worse and worse until the doctors have to take him off of life support and I have to watch the love of my life slip away before my eyes for a_ second time _? What if-_ holy Jesus fuck.

Richie can't breathe. He has a quick thought of _Oh, this is what Eddie must feel like when he has panic attacks_ , and then he's squeezing his eyes shut and trying to draw oxygen into his lungs. Why is it so fucking hard? Why can't he breathe? Eddie's supposed to be the one with broken lungs, that's why he's on a-

Richie gasps in a breath and opens his eyes. His vision is blurry. Eddie is on a ventilator and he's never ever going to wake up. This was one of the things Richie saw in the deadlights, yes it was, there were so many images flashing one after another but he is _certain_ that this was one of them. He saw Eddie get impaled more times than he could count, and some of those times they even got him out of Neibolt, but without fail Eddie would die in one way or another.

He would bleed out on the lawn. His lungs would fill with blood as Richie was calling the ambulance. They would get in a car crash on the way to the hospital. His heart would stop before surgery. His heart would stop during surgery. His heart would stop when he was in the recovery room and Richie was just coming in to see him. A doctor would accidentally prescribe the wrong medication. A doctor would intentionally prescribe the wrong medication. He would be taken off the ventilator before he was ready. His injuries would be too great and he would waste away in bed. 

He would be on the ventilator and in a coma but never wake up.

Richie is still in the deadlights. That's the only explanation. Okay, it's not the only explanation, but it's certainly the worst explanation and Richie has to prepare himself for the possibility that it's true. He forces himself to look at Eddie's face. 

_Pennywise could never replicate a person so_ _perfectly,_ Richie thinks. _Even with Georgie, something was off. His eyes weren't the right color. His smile was a little too wide. And of course, he didn't call the boat 'she.'_

_When I was taking Eddie to the hospital, I called him nicknames. He said 'don't call me that.'_

_That clown, that stupid fucking clown, couldn't have known that._

The way Eddie talked in the car was too natural to be Pennywise. It was too... _Eddie._

Richie takes deep breaths. His heart rate is returning to normal.

"Sir? Are you alright?" The nurse looks concerned.

"I'm fine now. Thanks." Richie brings Eddie's hand to his face, kisses it, and then whispers one last thing: "You can do this, Spaghetti Man."


	4. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is really fun to write so far! I just wanted to let y'all know that I have never seen the It movies or finished the book. This is all going by the interviews, clips, and Reddie compilations I have watched on YouTube. :) If anything seems weird or inaccurate, please tell me!
> 
> (Also, this chapter is kind of in 3rd person omniscient POV, but not really? Bc it's not from anyone's POV except for Richie's and Eddie's.)

It turns out that waking up from a coma happens bit by bit. The first thing that Eddie becomes aware of is pain somewhere in his chest.

 _Chest._ He doesn't have a body. There's nothing, just blank horizons. But he must have a body, because he can feel someone holding his hand. 

Somewhere, there are noises, all melting together. If Eddie focuses, he can distinguish a long droning hum, a steady beeping, someone's voice. But he doesn't understand what they're saying, or even who is speaking. 

He likes hearing this mystery person talk. Their voice, although Eddie doesn't recognize it, is comforting. Occasionally, he will be able to make out a word or two that the person is saying. He hears his own name several times, as well as "I'm right here." The mystery person says that a lot, their tone reassuring.

And then it comes to him: Richie. _Richie_ is speaking. 

The thought makes him happy.

So much time passes while Eddie is in this in-between state. Sometimes, different people will talk, but Eddie much prefers hearing Richie's voice. And Richie is the only one that will consistently hold his hand.

It's nice. 

* * *

Eddie opens his eyes at 2:37 PM a week or so after being brought to the hospital.

Through blurry vision, he sees Richie sleeping in the chair by the hospital bed. 

_Rich,_ he tries to say, but there's something in his mouth. What could be in his- oh. An endotracheal tube, to help him breathe. That often happens to patients who have trouble breathing on their own. Why can't he breathe on his own?

The memories hit him all at once. _Pennywise. Blood. Dying, and then somehow waking up again._

He's pulled back into unconsciousness.

* * *

The second time Eddie opens his eyes, Richie is awake, sniffling quietly and focusing on tracing the lines on Eddie's palm. 

Again, Eddie tries to speak, but the tube won't let him. Instead, he twitches his index finger.

Richie freezes, letting out a breath. Slowly, as if scared of what he'll see, he lifts his head. When he sees that Eddie's eyes are open, Richie gasps. "Eds?!" His voice cracks. 

Eddie blinks, and manages to nod his head slightly. _Yeah, Richie,_ he wants to say. _I'm awake, and I've missed you._

" _Eds,_ " Richie says once more. He sits there for a few seconds, numb, hovering his free hand over Eddie's body. "I- I- _I'm so sorry, Eds,_ I didn't-"

Eddie's eyes slip shut. The room is so bright; it hurt to look at. Maybe Eddie will just rest his eyes a bit - that sounds nice. He intends to open them again within a few minutes, but then he falls asleep before Richie can finish talking.

* * *

It's only around thirty minutes before Eddie opens his eyes again. Richie isn't in the room anymore - instead, Bev sits in the chair by the bed. She's softly reading him a book.

Mustering up his strength, Eddie reaches a hand out and touches Bev's knee. The effort is exhausting.

Her voice cuts off. " _Eddie,_ hi," she says. And then she starts crying. "I was so worried. Richie said you were awake, but I just thought..."

 _Don't cry,_ thinks Eddie. But he can't talk. All he can do is make eye contact with her, hoping she understands what he's trying to communicate. _I'm here. I'm alive._

Gradually, Bev stops crying. Her eyes are puffy, her hair disheveled. "I'm really glad you're alright." She bites her lip. "....And I'm so sorry I left you down there."

Eddie squeezes her hand, trying once again to send her a message through his eyes. _It's okay,_ he wants to say. _I understand. You thought I was dead. I_ was _dead. Saving me would have meant risking your own life._

Bev tilts her head, seemingly thinking about something. A small smile turns up on her lips. "You can get through this, Eds. I know you can."

 _Thank you_ , thinks Eddie, a warm feeling spreading throughout his chest. He smiles around the tube, and then drifts off to sleep.

* * *

Eddie wakes up for a fourth time to see Bill, kneeling at the foot of the bed and sobbing.

"I'm s-s-so sorry, Eds," he says. "T-t-this is all m-my f-fuh-fault."

Eddie wants to nudge him as hard as he can with his foot and finds that he can't move anything below his hips. Hm. That's probably not a good sign.

He thinks again about where Pennywise stabbed him, and it makes him want to start crying himself, but he focuses on trying to get Bill's attention.

Grasping a handful of the blanket fabric in his right hand, he yanks it as hard as he can - which, granted, isn't much. But to Bill's credit, he notices right away, jumping up and immediately trying to wipe his tears.

"H-h-hi," Bill says, sitting in the chair next to the bed. "You're awake."

 _Yeah, I'm awake, and it's not your fault_ , Eddie wants to say. Then he gets an idea. He positions his right hand as if he's holding a pen, and then mimes writing. It's slow at first, his hand clumsy, but Bill gets the idea.

"Y-you want s-s-something to write on?" Bill searches his pockets and finds nothing. "I'll b-be right b-b-back." 

He's only gone for a few minutes, but to Eddie it seems like hours. His chest constricts with fear until Bill returns, brandishing a small notepad and pen.

"Here," he says, holding the notepad steady as Eddie takes the pen.

 _'Not your fault,_ ' Eddie writes. The words are messy, looking as if they were scrawled by a toddler, but once again Bill understands.

"It f-fuh-fucking is." He takes a shaky breath. "I g-got us all into this t-t-twenty-seven years ago."

 _'Don't blame yourself. Pennywise's fault. Not_ yours.' Eddie taps the pen, emphasizing his point.

Bill dissolves into a blubbering mess of tears again. 

Eddie falls asleep before the crying stops.

* * *

After a couple hours, Eddie wakes up once more. Richie is here again. This time, he gathers the strength to squeeze Richie's hand back.

"H-hey, Eds," Richie says, looking more composed. He reaches out and gently ruffles Eddie's hair. 

Tears slip down Eddie's cheeks as he looks at Richie, glasses askew, shirt wrinkled. _Thank you_ , he wants to say. _I love you._ And that catches him by surprise, because he realizes he really _does_ love Richie - more than just friends. This thought makes his heart beat faster, just a little bit, not even noticeable unless you were staring at the monitor. 

"I stayed by your side the whole time when you were unconscious." A strange expression passes over Richie's face. "Could you... hear me talking to you?"

Eddie shakes his head, but the movement makes searing pain tear through his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut. When the flames die down and Eddie opens his eyes, Richie seems to be steeling himself for something.

"So, um, I have to tell you something." Richie sandwiches Eddie's hand in between both of his own. He looks into Eddie's brown eyes, shiny with tears. "I think I'm in love with you." It's half a lie - Richie doesn't _think_ , he _knows._ He's absolutely head over heels in love with Eddie, and he would follow him to the end of the Earth if needed. Fear is creeping into Richie's voice, but he tries to mask it by making a half-hearted crack: "Even more than I love your mom."

Eddie's frown deepens. He shakes his head again. _Don't make this into a joke_ is what he wants to say. But he almost can't think clearly. He's sure he heard that middle part wrong; Richie could never love someone like him. 

Richie rests an unsure hand on Eddie's shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb. "Sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry, I... just forget it. Forget what I said. I'm sorry."

 _Don't be sorry, please, don't be sorry,_ Eddie thinks. He tries to reach out and touch Richie's face, but his arm feels like lead.

Slowly, Richie lets his hand drop. "I'm sorry," he says again, standing up. "I shouldn't have-" He swallows. 

_Please don't go, please don't leave me again._ Eddie watches as Richie turns and leaves the room.

And now he's alone, except for the nurse. 

He falls asleep again within a few seconds.

* * *

By the time Eddie wakes up next, Richie is waiting with the notepad and pen.

"Hey, Spaghetti."

Slowly, Eddie begins writing. ' _Don't,'_ he starts. ' _call me that.'_

Richie lets out a teary laugh. "Aaand he's back. How are you feeling?"

_'Like shit.'_

"Yeah, well, you look like shit too." Richie's smile falls from his face, replaced by a look of tension. "So... um... about what I said earlier... it's just that it has been weighing on me for a while and then you, y'know, fucking died and I never got to tell you, and I didn't forgive myself and also you were alone when it happened because I went to go help everyone else so I just wanted to tell you now because I-" He cuts off mid-sentence when he realizes Eddie is writing something.

_'I love you too.'_

Richie freezes. The air in the room suddenly seems very heavy. "Really?"

Eddie nods. _'I think since we were kids.'_ Then he writes _'Hammock'_ and underlines it three times.

"Eds, if you- if you're just saying this to make me feel better, stop." Richie swallows. "And if this is a joke, I'll fucking leave this room right now."

 _'Not a joke. I love you.'_ And he smiles around the tube in his mouth, eyes crinkling, dimple appearing in his non-bandaged cheek. 

Richie tries not to cry, but fails.

_'Hug me.'_

"Yeah?" Richie gets out of the chair, opting instead to sit on the bed. 

_'Yeah.'_

So Richie leans down and wraps his arms around Eddie, being very careful not to jostle any of the tubes. He holds Eddie gently. "I love you so fucking much," Richie mumbles. "So much. You're strong and brave and fucking adorable, and I'm never, _ever_ going to let anything happen to you ever again. I promise, Spaghetti. You're safe now - both of us are."

They fall asleep like that, breaths evening out, Richie's head resting on Eddie's arm, secrets shared.


	5. The Weaving

When the nurses decide that Eddie's lungs are functioning adequately, they say that the ventilator tube is ready to be taken out.

"Alright, Spaghetti, this is going to be okay," Richie says, holding Eddie's hand. "It's quick, right? Taking the tube out is quick?" _Please don't make Eddie go through any more pain_ , he thinks. _Please. He's been through enough._

The nurse nods. "Yes. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes." She holds up a thin, clear tube with a white thing at one end, and connects it to the tube in Eddie's mouth. "First I have to suction any secretions or obstructions from the endotracheal tube." 

Richie looks away, but then he feels Eddie's hand tighten on his own and it makes his chest twist. He makes eye contact with Eddie, and god, he doesn't know why he didn't do it more often before all of this happened. Looking into Eddie's eyes just reinforces how hopelessly in love he is. "You're doing great, Spaghetti," Richie whispers. "Just look at me."

In response, Eddie squeezes his hand again. 

The nurse is putting away the smaller tube and giving Eddie a soft smile. "Now let's sit you up so we can get this tube out, yeah?" 

As she helps Eddie sit up against the pillows, Eddie makes a noise of pain, and the sound nearly wrenches Richie's heart in two. _"I need a little rest," Eddie had said, words thick with blood, as he was being lowered against the wall of the cave. "Ah, thanks."_

Richie shakes away the memory, focusing instead on _this_ Eddie, here and now, the Eddie who was dead but who came back to life and found his way out of a demon clown's lair like the badass he is. The Eddie who is hurt, who was in a coma, who made himself wake up because he's that strong. The Eddie who is in pain and coughing as the nurse removes the breathing tube from his throat.

"That's it, Eds," Richie makes himself say, but he's in a daze. "You did it."

Eddie gasps in a deep breath as the coughing subsides, and then looks at Richie. "Don't call me that," he says. Despite the fact that his voice is raspy and hoarse, it's _Eddie,_ it's _Eddie's_ voice and he's talking and he's breathing and he's alive.

"You love it," says Richie, shaking off the fogginess. "Are you feeling okay?"

The nurse hands Eddie a cup of water, and Eddie downs the whole thing so quickly that it spills a little down his chin. Richie dabs the drops away with his sleeve, and Eddie looks at him gratefully. "So-so." He winces. "Ah, it- hurts to talk."

"Then don't talk." Richie grins, kissing Eddie on the nose. "Fuck, I've missed you. I've missed your voice. Too bad dear Sonia isn't here to celebrate with me."

Eddie accepts another cup of water. This time, he's more careful. "Asshole," he rasps.

"I missed that too." Richie wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eye, but the more Eddie looks at him the more he realizes it may have been real. "Shh. You have to rest that beautiful voice of yours. Wouldn't want to strain it so soon."

"You shh." Eddie puts a hand on Richie's. 

"But stop talking. You just got an- an- eldo-tracheal-"

"Endotracheal." Eddie smiles for the first time in a while without a tube in the way. "And shut the fuck up, Richie. I haven't been able to talk to you in like two weeks. You've been blathering away, just talking and talking, and while I do love your voice, I've had enough for now. It's my turn. There are things I need to say." He reaches out with his free hand and lies it over Richie's. "I love you. So fucking much."

Richie blinks rapidly to try to keep from crying, because he never thought he would get to say Eddie hear those words, never in a million, billion years. "I love you too, Eds."

"And I'm thankful-" Tears gather in Eddie's eyes, too, and begin to spill down his cheeks. "I'm thankful that you tried to help get me out of there. Even if it didn't work. When... when I woke up-"

"Don't. Don't thank me." Richie touches Eddie's face, wiping tears away. "I'm so fucking sorry. You died alone because I left you to go kill It. And I left you _again_ later, when we were all leaving, and I should have tried harder to get you out, I should have shoved them away and dragged you out of there. You didn't- you sacrificed yourself for me because you're a goddamn hero. You didn't deserve to be abandoned in the lair of the thing that killed you."

"Shut up, Richie," whispers Eddie, closing his eyes and touching his forehead to Richie's. "You didn't do anything wrong. Stop apologizing, and just kiss me."

Richie blushes. "What?"

"Is that okay?"

"Y-yeah, it's fine," says Richie. _Fine._ It's more than _fine._ It's everything Richie's ever dreamed of. It's warmth and sunshine and happiness and peace and every good thing in the world. It's _perfect._ His lips meet Eddie's, and when he pulls away he's grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. "Again?"

So they kiss again. This time, Richie lightly runs his fingers down Eddie's back, feeling the lumpy bandages underneath the hospital gown. "Why didn't we do this sooner?" he murmurs.

"I don't know. Maybe It should have impaled me back when we were kids." Eddie smiles.

"That is not fucking funny, Eds." Richie pulls away, swatting at him. Tears come to his eyes again; his throat starts to close up. He can still smell the blood. "They... they all pulled me out of Neibolt, onto the street, and I just- the house was collapsing but you were still in there. You were dead. You were _dead!_ Your eyes were closed and I couldn't... I couldn't breathe. I, um. I actually wanted to lie down next to you and die."

Eddie's face softens. "Hey, Rich, look at me. I'm here. I'm fine." He gently grabs Richie's wrist, bringing it up to his heart. "See? My heart is beating, I'm breathing, I'm alive."

Richie splays his fingers out, feeling the steady heartbeat below his palm, the reminder that Eddie Kaspbrak is indeed alive. "You _weren't_. What the fuck happened, anyway?"

"I..." Eddie lets out a breath. "I don't know. I remember being stabbed, and telling you to go kill Pennywise... and then... I knew I was dying. I held on until you guys crushed It's heart, and after that I just felt myself slip away."

"Why didn't you hold on until we got back? Even just to say good bye?" The fabric of the blanket is pilling. Richie picks at it.

Eddie's eyes burn with more tears that haven't fallen. "I tried. I _tried_ , so fucking hard, but I couldn't. I just wanted to tell you that it was okay. I wanted to tell you not to beat yourself up. But- I don't know." He makes a humming noise. "Then the next thing I knew I was awake. There was still a hole in my chest, and I called your name but obviously you were gone and you didn't answer..."

Richie tenses. More guilt. He left Eddie down there, alive. They'd all left him. "I'm so fucking-"

"Don't you dare say you're 'so fucking sorry' again, Rich, or I'll tell the nurses to kick you out of my room." Eddie lightly hits him. "Look, if you'd stayed, then you all would have died too, for no reason."

"But you were hurt and I _left_ you down there. I left you! I left you alone in It's lair!" Richie's eyes are rimmed with red. Crying makes his voice even more nasally than normal.

"It was scary," concedes Eddie. "Terrifying, in fact. I thought It got you. But I'm alive now, and I'm going to be fine. _You're_ here." Eddie softly smiles. 

Richie chokes on his tears. He leans forward, hugging Eddie, their hearts beating in sync. With one hand, he cups the back of Eddie's head, carding his fingers through soft brown hair. "That's right. You're safe."

"Uh-huh." Eddie puts his hands on Richie's hips and closes his eyes, relishing the warmth. "Shit, I never... I never thought I'd get a chance to do this."

"Do what?"

"Hug you," Eddie says, hooking his chin over Richie's shoulder. "You know, when I was, um, hurt- and I told you I fucked your mom- I thought you were going to hug me then. But you didn't."

Richie hugs Eddie closer. "I wanted to. I thought you'd hate me if I did. Pennywise would always taunt me about this shit."

Eddie feels understanding dawn on him. He waits quietly for Richie to continue.

"He called it my 'dirty little secret.' So. That's why I never made a move, I guess. But fuck him! He's dead, and we're both alive. We won!" Richie pulls away from the hug, clasping Eddie's hands within both of his. "We _won_ , Spaghetti Man, because of you. And now we can kiss and be together and be happy." It is very hard for Richie to refrain from crying. After all, this is everything he's ever wanted: a life with Eddie. 

Eddie grins widely. "That's right. We did win. I was dying and I still managed to tell you all how to beat It." He tilts his head, noticing tears in Richie's eyes. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." Richie sniffles. "I'm just happy. I never thought you'd love me back."

" _What?_ " Eddie exclaims. "Okay, you're literally, like- I think you're actually the hottest person I've ever met. And you're fucking hilarious, so that's a bonus. _I'm_ the one who should be worrying about you not loving me."

"Oh, now that's bullshit," says Richie, but he's smiling too. "Edward Spaghedward, you are sexy _and_ brave _and_ adorable _and_ you have the cutest smile. A quadruple threat." He plants kisses across Eddie's collarbone, right above the bandages. "I love you."

"I love you too, Richie."


	6. The Strengthening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie cuddle and are soft and spend time with each other while Eddie's in his hospital bed.

So, apparently Eddie's spinal cord _was_ severed, which means that it's going to take a long time for him to learn how to walk again. If he can ever walk again.

That's kind of disappointing.

Well. It's more than disappointing. Eddie cries and Richie holds him, whispering in his ear things like "Eds, you can get through this, I know you can, buddy." That still doesn't take away Eddie's pain - physical or emotional.

"Shit," he says, looking up at Richie with wide, shiny eyes. "I- I won't be able to run anymore. Richie, I won't be able to-" He wheezes. " _Fuck_ , I need my inhaler. Where's my fucking inhaler?!"

"Shh, hey, you don't need that anymore. Remember?" Richie holds both of Eddie's shaking hands. "Just breathe with me. In, out. In, out." He models appropriate panic attack breathing, inhaling for four seconds, holding for four seconds, exhaling for four seconds, and holding for four seconds. (He had read up on this a lot when he was younger. Just in case.)

"I can't-" _Wheeze._ "I can't _walk_ anymore, Rich, I can't- and I can't even-" _Wheeze._ "I can't even stand up, I won't be able to do anything on my-" _Wheeze._ "-on my own, ah fuck, ah _fucking fuck,_ Richie, I can't breathe!" Eddie's shaking all over now, his cheeks streaked with tears, every breath whistling. "Richie _please help._ "

Richie puts a hand on Eddie's chest. "Hey, shh, I'm right here. Come on, Eds. They said you _might_ not walk again, not that you _definitely_ won't. When have you ever been one to take things at face value?" He tries to smile, but finds that he can't, not when his Eddie is in pain. "You're a risk analyst, right? That means that you should know that people beat the odds all the time. And that's just _ordinary people._ You, Eddie Spaghetti, are nothing if not extraordinary. So take deep breaths for me."

A nurse rushes into the room, looking prepared, but stops short. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." Richie motions for her to leave. "He's just in emotional distress. It's a routine panic attack." Suddenly, he's doing a Southern Belle Voice. "You just hurry on right out of here, Jayden, we've got things _plenty_ under control."

The nurse, whose name was not Jayden, did not leave. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to need to stay in here and monitor things."

Richie sighs, switching out of his Southern Belle Voice and back into his normal one. "Fine. But you can stay back. It's fine, I, um, I know how to deal with things like this." He turns back to Eddie, whose breathing is whistling less and less. "There ya go, Eds, see? Deep breaths. You're not doing this alone, I promise you that, because I'm staying with you until you're all better. Shh. You're okay. You're okay. I've got you."

Eddie quickly leans forward, pulling Richie into a bear hug until he can finally breathe again. "You don't have to," he says. His voice is trembling. "You don't have to stay."

"I know I don't have to." Richie kisses the top of Eddie's head. "But I want to. I'll help you, Eds, okay? Uh. You can move in with me. If you want." 

"I can't burden you like that, Rich. There's no way I'm asking you to do that," Eddie says. His voice is getting thin and high pitched. 

"Eddie. My love. My beautiful Eddie Spaghetti." Richie cups Eddie's non-injured cheek in one hand. "It's not a burden, it's an honor. I _love_ you, remember?"

Eddie's brows are knit together and his eyes are sparkling with tears. He can't believe that anyone could possibly care about him this much. "But it's so much work," he mumbles. "You'd have to help me do everything for a while. You'd have to change my bandages. And, um, ha. Are you sure you want to even live with me? You always say I'm boring."

Letting out a breath, Richie hugs Eddie again. _Fuck, I'm a horrible person. I somehow convinced Eds, my favorite person in the world, that I think he's_ boring. _Way to go, me._ He slowly pulls away from the hug. "Eds, I... I could never consider you boring. I'm so sorry if I ever made you think that. I love being around you, and I love spending time with you, and I love listening to you talk. Of course I want to live with you. You're my very own angry hypochondriac and I'd be proud to call you my husband."

Eddie widens his eyes, his face flushing red. "Husband?"

"Um. Well. _Fuck._ " Richie gives a halfhearted smile. "Yeah? I mean. If you want? Not right now, obviously, but like. At some point?" He holds his breath.

"Jesus, Richie, I love you so much." Eddie laughs, actually laughs, and he looks more relaxed than he has in days. " _Yes._ At some point. I would love to marry you."

Richie laughs too. "Holy shit, I've been waiting to hear you say those words for so long." His smile fades. "But, uh, about what you said before? That it would be 'so much work?' Eds, come _on._ You got hurt protecting me. You _died_ protecting me. I can't believe you'd ever think you're not deserving of shit like this. _Eds._ I love you, and I want to take care of you. Will you let me?"

Eddie sobs. 

"I'm sorry, hey, just look at me." Richie looks deep into Eddie's eyes. "I mean it. I mean all of it, everything I say. Look, I- when you- when you died, I thought I would die too, and I _wanted_ to die, because I couldn't imagine living in a world where you didn't exist, you know? And like, now? Now you're actually back. I didn't think you'd come back, I thought you were gone for good, and in my defense, that's usually the case. But you _did_ come back and you proved the doctors wrong about a shit ton of things and now you'll beat the odds and walk again. If anyone can do this, it's you."

"It is?" Eddie looks exhausted, and he is; the thought that _I'm not enough_ takes so much energy out of him. Being depressed is _work_. It saps your strength before you can blink an eye. It makes you believe that no one loves you when, in fact, sitting right there is a man who loves you more than anything. Eddie will learn these things in time. At the moment he isn't even aware that he has depression, nor is he aware that he has PTSD; the fact that he has anxiety has been obvious to him since he left Derry. He has yet to attend therapy and learn all his shortcomings - or, rather, Sonia's shortcomings. For now, he is just a man lying in a hospital bed who doesn't know his true worth. "I can?"

"Of course, Eddie my love. Of _course._ You're so fucking-" Richie exhales, picking the right word. "You're a hero."

Eddie takes Richie's hand. "Fuck, Rich," he says. "Thanks. I mean, I don't really think I am, because I was just doing what any of us would do, right? I was just... I saw you there and I knew I had to do _something._ I couldn't just let you die like I almost did with Stan's spider head." Hot tears prick at Eddie's eyes.

"No. Not everyone would have done what you did, and do you know how I know that? No one else _did_ do what you did. They froze up, just like you did with Spider-Stan. Everyone freezes sometimes. When it really counted, you didn't. You saved me." Richie peppers Eddie's face with kisses. "And then, when you were fucking _dying_? You still gave us all the secret on how to kill It. No offense to the other Losers, but without you, we wouldn't have been able to figure that shit out. If that's not hero material, I don't know what is."


	7. The Binding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie gets physical therapy and a wheelchair. Richie ponders things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- brief mention of s**cidal thoughts.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I know that wheelchairs are a freeing thing for people who use them, and being in a wheelchair is not negative. Eddie is only upset because of his childhood trauma in relation to medical things, and because he loved running and now he can't for a while.

"Hey, Eds! You ready for your first day of physical therapy? Good old PT?" Richie mimes holding a video camera. 

Eddie's lips are a thin line. "Can you not joke now, asshat?" He exhales. "Sorry, I'm just- you know. This is going to hurt, a lot, and also I might never walk again, so. I'm kind of anxious."

Richie bites back another joke, and takes Eddie's hand. "Hey, you're going to do great. I'll be right here holding your hand the whole time."

The physical therapist is named Leo. "You sustained an incomplete traumatic spine injury," he says. "But judging by your performance so far - beating the odds and waking up from a coma - I think the probability of you regaining the ability to walk is fair."

Eddie looks up at Richie, not even noticing the tears in his eyes, and then back to Leo. "Fair. That's good, that's- okay. Wow." He smiles. A little light has returned to his thoughts. Maybe things will turn out alright. 

True to his word, Richie stays by Eddie's side and holds his hand the entire time. He'd thought that physical therapy would just be bouncing on an exercise ball and trying to walk with bars. Instead, he has to watch as Eddie is brought to tears multiple times by simply having Leo move his legs.

"This will help strengthen your core, Mr. Kaspbrak," Leo says. "We don't want the muscles to atrophy from disuse. Take deep breaths."

Eddie grimaces, squeezing Richie's hand. "Ah, _fuck_ , this-" he hisses. "Holy _shit!_ Richie, I can't _do_ this!" His face is pale-

_he was pale down in Neibolt because he lost so much blood_ , Richie thinks-

and he's panting-

_couldn't catch his breath he couldn't breathe there was a hole in his chest,_ Richie thinks-

and now Richie is almost crying too, how wonderful, how magnificent. "You _can_ do this, Spaghetti Man, I know you can. Breathe in with me, nice. Okay, and breathe out. You've got this." He tries to make his voice as soothing as possible because it _hurts_ to see his Eddie in pain. "You're the strongest person I've ever met."

The core exercises are just the beginning. Leo also helps Eddie do kettlebells and trunk raises and other things that Richie didn't know the name for until today. As the session goes on, Eddie loses more and more energy, until he's sinking down into the pillows and his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. 

"That," Eddie says after Leo leaves, "was fucking awful." His cheeks are tearstained. 

Richie kisses him. "But you got through it, just like I knew you would," he whispers. "These are just making you stronger and stronger until you'll be able to walk and chase after me when I make fun of you."

Eddie doesn't laugh. He stares up at the ceiling, exhausted. "But until then... you'll have to take care of me." The heart monitor is beeping, and he focuses on that sound. The good news is, he's starting to be able to feel his legs again; the bad news is that makes physical therapy hurt so much more. And he's going to have to do these sessions daily. He grips the blanket with his left hand.

"Yeah? And?" Richie's face is soft. "I want to help you. That's what boyfriends are for." He hands Eddie a cloth to wipe his face with. "We take care of each other. Under Neibolt, you took care of me; now it's my turn."

Taking the cloth, Eddie uses it to dab the sweat off his face. "You have a job," he says through gritted teeth, sitting up more in the bed. "You have a job and I'm not going to be the reason that you get _fired_ , Richie." It hurts, but half of him wants Richie to abandon him and go back to his life. Or maybe that pain is from the _massive fucking wound in his chest_ that killed him. He presses a hand to his bandages. The room is closing in on him, getting smaller and smaller. There's a tickle in his throat, and he coughs, but then he can't stop coughing.

"Eds?!" Richie puts a hand on Eddie's cheek. "Shit, hold on, I'll go get the nurse." He stands, but Eddie doesn't let go of his hand.

" _Stay_ ," Eddie gasps out between coughs. 

There is a call button, but Richie gets lost in Eddie's eyes and forgets how to move. "What's wrong?"

Eddie doesn't answer. More tears stream down his cheeks, and to Richie's alarm, bright red beads of blood appear on his lips.

The nurse comes in anyway, summoned by Eddie's vitals going berserk. She shoos Richie away. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave while we get this under control." _We._ Several other nurses and doctors are now crowding into the room, which means this must be _bad_ bad. It takes all of them to force Richie out.

He wanders the halls for a bit, hands shoved in his pockets. "It'll be fine," he says aloud. "He'll be fine." But there was blood coming from Eddie's mouth, and the last time Richie saw that was

_under Neibolt when Eddie was struggling to speak and he didn't want to stop holding my hand_

and oh, hm. So, there are a great many similarities between this and underneath Neibolt. 

_Maybe he'll die now,_ _too,_ Richie thinks. Then he vomits in a trash can. 

_No, I just got him back. The universe isn't cruel enough to rip him away from me again, so soon._ He goes into the bathroom and wets paper towels, enjoying the coolness against his skin. His reflection stares back at him, eye bags, stubble, and all. The Losers had persuaded him to take one shower a couple days into Eddie's coma, and he took another one the day after Eddie woke up, so he still looks like a mess. He cleans his glasses and wipes his face down with the paper towels, and then he finds a vending machine.

The only cash Richie has on him is a wrinkled five-dollar bill. He uses it to buy a granola bar - expired - but he can't stomach more than a couple bites. On a scale of 1 to 10, his suicidal ideation is probably about a 7, he guesses, which isn't too bad.

It's another half hour before the nurse finally allows Richie back into the room.

"Eddie!" Richie can't hold back his tears this time, and he hugs Eddie as best he can. "Eds, I was worried. What happened?"

"My stitches ripped. Also hemoptysis, which is bleeding in the lungs. They re-stitched me up and gave me some antibiotics. I'm alright." He gives a tired smile. "But what I was saying before still stands. You're not going to quit your job or get fired because of me. It's out of the question."

Richie holds Eddie's hand again. "I'm taking a little break. I called my manager the day before you woke up. He understands. Right now, you are the most important thing in the world to me. I don't care about anything else, alright, Eds?"

That makes Eddie cry, which makes Richie keep crying, and it takes at least five minutes for them both to calm down.

(Well, _calm_ is relative. Eddie is never calm; he's constantly high strung. His doctor told him his resting heart rate was abnormally high. But the funny thing is, every time he's with Richie, his heart rate slows down a bit.)

When the nurse comes back in, she has a wheelchair with her. 

"This is for you, Mr. Kaspbrak," she says, unfolding it. "Let's practice getting in and out."

Richie grins. "Oh, Eddie, look - you'll have a wheelchair to use until you can _get back on your feet_." 

"Shut up," says Eddie. He's trying to look irritated, but his eyes give him away. Still, he's apprehensive. _Shit. A wheelchair means things are really changing. A wheelchair means I actually might never walk again._

Both Richie and the nurse help transfer him into the wheelchair a couple times, and then they let him try it on his own. Eddie's arms give out the first time; the second time he manages to do it. 

"Good job, Spaghetti!" Richie leans down and hugs him. "I told you you could do it."

Eddie sighs. "This is scary." He fidgets with the peeling rubber on the armrests. 

"I know." Richie kisses the top of Eddie's head, and then gets an idea. "Be right back."

He goes to the gift shop and picks out as many sticker sheets as he can find. Then for good measure, he buys some ribbon and a stuffed rabbit, too. On his way back to Eddie's room, he buys a chocolate bar from the vending machine.

Richie sticks his head in the room. "Hey, Jeannie? Can you please bring me Eddie's wheelchair for a second? Um, without him in it. Thanks!"

Jeannie complies. Richie gives her a star sticker. The rest of the stickers, though, he sticks on Eddie's wheelchair - on the arms, back, anywhere he can put them that they won't fall off. He wraps the ribbon around the handles and bars for the leg rests, tying it in big bows and borrowing some medical scissors to cut off the excess so it won't get caught in the wheels. 

The finished product looks like something out of a children's book, which is just how Richie likes it. He imitates a drumroll, and pushes the chair back into Eddie's room. "Ta-da!"

Eddie starts to frown. His jaw drops open. But then his eyes crinkle up and he laughs. "Jesus Christ, Rich," he gasps. "That looks absolutely hideous. Awful. I pity the person who takes that monstrosity out in public." 

Richie's face falls. "Sorry, Eds, I-"

" _I love it."_ Eddie is smiling ear to ear. "And I love you. Thanks. You're the best boyfriend I could ask for."

....Which sets Richie off crying again ( _I've become such a sap lately,_ he thinks _, but I'm kind of okay with it_ ). " _You're_ the best boyfriend _I_ could ask for," he manages. "Seriously, Eddie, I'm so- I'm really glad we have each other."

"Me too, Richie."


End file.
